


Even Though it Hurts;

by C_B_Z



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Awkward Kageyama Tobio, Hurt Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio-centric, Kageyama draws, Kyoutani is a good friend, M/M, Multi, No beta reader hell I barely even edited, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oikawa is a prick, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Kageyama Tobio, POV Kyoutani Kentarou, POV Oikawa Tooru, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Supportive mom, how do i even tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29374797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_B_Z/pseuds/C_B_Z
Summary: Tobio never fit in.He didn't fit in at five, when everyone seemed to just work together in a way he didn't understand, and he started scribbling in blue crayon.He didn't fit in at twelve, when Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa-san, his soulmate, scorned and rejected him, and his greyscale paintings matched the once-vibrant mark on his finger.He didn't fit in at fifteen, when his team left him standing alone on the court, abandoned, and everything he drew was the color of the grief he was drowning in, because his grandfather was gone.It was the reason he clung so desperately to volleyball, to the wonderful sport his grandfather had given him, and perhaps the reason it seemed to slip through his fingers. It was the reason his soulmate seemed to hate him.And then Tobio met Kyoutani, and Hinata, and even that complete asshole Tsukkishima. Maybe he fit in, finally.Despite all of this, even though he has people he can call friends now, even though it hurts, Kageyama Tobio is still a little bit in love with Oikawa Tooru.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Kyoutani Kentarou, Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Tobio & Karasuno Volleyball Club, Kageyama Tobio & Kyoutani Kentarou, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 40
Kudos: 276





	1. Pinpoint_Accuracy: Tobio

**Author's Note:**

> Just spent like half an hour trying to write that summary. Y'all, I don't even know. I've been obsessively reading KageOi for like two months now, and I was dying over this story in my head, and here we are. I wasn't planning on posting anything until I had more written, but it's like three in the morning, and I do not feel even remotely fatigued, so we're making impulsive decisions.

Kageyama Tobio had resigned himself to a life of loneliness halfway through his third year of middle school.

He knew, no matter how far he reached out or how fast he ran towards the people around him, there would always be a part of them that simply did not understand him, and he them. By that time, even the feelings of frustration that he had felt as a boy of seven who could not find anyone to play with at school had faded, leaving only a feeling of strange otherness. He was different. Separate. The wall that he had built to block his soulmate bond only served to make the feeling of isolation worse.

It was not as if what had happened in his first year of middle school had done anything to change how he felt. It had just taken this long for his mind to truly understand the fact that even the people who were supposed to want him most- his soulmates- could not understand him, or want him, and had cast him aside without a second glance.

It had started when Kunimi began calling him The King of the Court. Tobio had known, logically, that yelling at his teammates would not improve their abilities or even make them work harder. He knew that taking out his grief on the people he was supposed to confide in would cause nothing but harm. He just hadn’t been able to stop himself. He hadn’t been able to stop, because his grandfather had left him, was gone, and volleyball was all he had left of the person he had loved so dearly. So he pushed.

And pushed and pushed.

And when cracks began to appear, when Kunimi and Kindiachi stopped asking him what was wrong and had started yelling back instead, he had ignored them. Until finally, they walked away and left him alone in the middle of the court. And he realized, that maybe, that had been what he had been headed towards all along.

\----

Tobio met Kyoutani Kentarou in the month between what he liked to think of his horrible _before_ and his incredible _after_.

He had slowly been losing his mind, because it felt like it had been ages since he last played a volleyball game- and what else did he live for, other than to set the ball?- when Miwa had mentioned seeing a friendly open match at the neighborhood center a few streets down. Really, it had been one of the luckiest moments of his life, meeting the boy that seemed to have such a deep understanding of him in the midst of one of the worst spirals he had ever experienced. Tobio had still been reeling from that final match with KitaDai, unable to process and anxious to ever set foot on the court again. And then- as if the universe had suddenly decided he deserved a treat after all these years of suffering- Kyoutani had come barreling in and smashed it all to pieces. It was, Tobio thought, possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him.

It had started off with them snarling at each other during that first match, Tobio still trying to shrug off that fucking king’s cloak and Kyoutani just being an all-around unsociable ass. The other members of their team seemed apprehensive at first, and then shrugged it off when they won their first set together. That had probably been when something started to click for the two of them- when they recognized each other’s hunger for a fulfilling victory and overall improvement.

It had continued like that for maybe a week, a silent respect and understanding between Tobio and Kyoutani and an unspoken agreement that they were alike in more ways than one. They had finally snapped together the day that Tobio had stumbled upon Kyoutani, already bruised, facing off against two other boys on some unknown corner. He had taken one look at the situation, the blond standing in front of a cowering stray cat and glowering at the two boys, and had stepped up beside him, pulling himself up to his full height.

“Two against one, huh?” he had snarled.

Kyoutani had just shot him a feral smile before turning to the now-unsure strangers. “What, cowards, you only like fighting when the odds are in your favor?”

The kids had run off, and Kyoutani had turned to him, “They were throwing rocks at the cat.”

Tobio had just nodded, and that had been that.

They were inseparable for the rest of the month.

Miwa had been surprised the first time Tobio had invited him over, and then just smiled when she realized that Kyoutani’s personality was just a slightly more aggressive version of Tobio’s. One afternoon, Kyoutani had dragged Tobio to his house after one of their matches at the neighborhood center, sat him down on his couch, and showed him V is for Vendetta. When Kageyama had looked over at the boy during the closing credits, all he had said was “it’s my favorite.”

That was how Tobio had learned about Kyoutani’s obsession with western action movies.

The same week, Tobio had invited him over, yanked open the drawers of his desk, and handed him a stack of sketchbooks. Kyoutani had flipped through them, studying each page, before looking up at Kageyama, and saying bluntly but earnestly, “You feel a lot, don’t you?”

That was how Tobio had learned that Kyoutani was, perhaps, the only person in the world who was the same as him.

He decided that afternoon that maybe he didn’t feel as lonely anymore, that maybe the hole in his chest left by the wall blocking his soulmate bond was the tiniest bit smaller.

\----

“Tobioooooo.” Miwa’s voice drifted into the living room over the faint sounds of yelling and gunshots coming from the television.

Kageyama, who was leaning against the couch as he drew in his newest sketchbook, Kyoutani’s fingers running through his hair (that had started somewhere between weeks two and three of knowing each other, Kageyama couldn’t remember the exact moment), grunted in response.

“Tobio I was looking at some of your drawings, and thinking about school, you know, one of my marketing classes, and I just had the best idea.” Miwa’s voice grew louder, and she emerged from the kitchen, blue eyes sparkling.

Tobio just raised an eyebrow at her, feeling Kyoutani shift to fixate on his sister, probably equally skeptical. Miwa’s last ‘best’ idea had ended in their mother scolding all three of them over the disastrous state of her kitchen after a long overnight shift at the hospital.

Miwa just huffed at them, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that you two. It is a good idea. And no baking involved this time!”

A quiet snort sounded from the couch.

“Whatever, Kentarou-kun. You’ll agree with me. Just listen.” her voice took on an excited tone, and Tobio braced himself. “Tobio should start a social media page for his art!”

The second the final word was out of Miwa’s mouth, Tobio was shaking his head.

“Come oooon, Otoutosan. You’re so good! You can even do it under an alias so no one knows it’s you! Plus I bet people will want to commission you. Money, Tobio. You can make money.”

That had Tobio reconsidering. Brow furrowed, he listened to the vague sounds of someone screaming about being shot as he thought about it, Kyoutani’s hand still in his hair. Money meant he could buy more volleyball stuff. He could stop asking his mom for food allowance, and he could buy his own art supplies, so Miwa wouldn’t spend so much on him either.

Miwa’s whine interrupted his thoughts. “Kentarou-kun, I’m right, aren’t I?”

Tobio felt Kyoutani shrug. The gesture said _Kageyama should do what he wants._

Kageyama smiled to himself. Ultimately, Kyoutani knew that his art was his private thing, the little something he kept for himself while he shared volleyball with the world, and it was up to him to decide if he wanted to share it. It felt good to know that he knew that.

Surprising even himself, Tobio hesitantly nodded, brows still furrowed. Miwa clapped, but before she could launch into whatever it was she was about to do, Kageyama said “Only with an alias. Like you said. And I will only post what I want.”

Nodding vigorously, Miwa grinned. “Of course, Otoutosan. Whatever you want. I’m telling you, you’re going to have so many followers. Now, shall we start taking pictures?” Behind him, Kyoutani let out a long-suffering sigh. “Good luck,” he grumbled, before grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning up the volume.

Kyoutani suggested the username **Pinpoint_Accuracy.** Tobio posted two pictures.

The page had 500 followers by the end of the day.


	2. "It's Heavy": Kentarou

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back already. Honestly, I'm really just going for it with this story. This chapter has way more dialogue because it's less of an 'establish background and try not to make it unbearably long' chapter and more of a 'I love these characters and they're so cute as friends' chapter. Enjoy!

Kentarou found it incredibly entertaining to see how perplexed Kageyama was with every new follower to his art page. It seemed as though he had genuinely expected absolutely no followers, and couldn’t understand why anyone would want to look at anything he drew. It was both frustrating and endearing.

“I just don’t understand. Why do people like it? How does the account have so many followers?” his friend looked constipated, staring down at his latest post, (which, according to him, had _far_ too many likes) sketchbook laid out in front of him, while Kentarou poked him every time an explosion sounded on-screen.

This was generally how they ended up in the evenings, because action movies were the only thing Kentarou could sit still for, and drawing was the only thing that kept Kageyama from pacing a track into the floor while he obsessed over the latest volleyball video.

Kyoutani just huffed.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Someone threw a grenade. _Poke_. “It’s not even that good and they’re not that colorful or anything. I just- this is a lot of people.” Kageyama had begun to sound slightly distressed, so Kentarou took pity.

“Whatever, dumbass. They are good, or people wouldn’t follow you. None of them know who it is. Just post when you want and don’t pay attention to the likes or how many followers.”

Even though it was almost funny (maybe not almost, maybe it was _really_ funny) how baffled his friend was by the attention his art was receiving, it was also a little concerning and infuriating. What had made Kageyama doubt himself and anything he made so deeply that he was unable to accept it was good even when the evidence was right in front of him?

Kentarou was startled out of his thought by the sound of a car exploding booming through the speakers. He delivered another poke between Kageyama’s shoulder blades. “Oi,” was the only response he received, before Kageyama hauled himself up.

“I’m going to make dinner. Don’t break anything while I’m busy, asshole.” Kentarou just flipped him off, returning to his movie. He had stopped offering to help on the third night he had stayed over, when Kageyama snarled at him for chopping the vegetables.

That was how Kentarou had learned Kageyama liked to cook, and was damn good at it.

The sounds of cooking began to drift from the kitchen, Kentarou leaned over and peeked at the sketchbook that was laid open on the coffee table. The drawing Kageyama had been working on was a two-page spread, and was full of calming pastel purples and happy yellows. There were touches of grey around the edges, but the picture as a whole remained safe from the creeping color. He had learned that Kageyama chose his colors carefully, and they often corresponded with his general mood. Grey was always bad. Kentarou wondered if it was because of the grey soul mark he had seen on the younger boy’s pinky; soul marks were something they had yet to discuss.

“Kyou!” Kageyama’s flat voice sounded from the kitchen. “Food!”

He wandered into the kitchen and sat in his usual seat at the table. Miwa was staying with a friend tonight, and Kageyama’s mother was working her usual overnight shift at the hospital. It was just the two of them, but honestly, Kentarou preferred it that way. His friend’s silent understanding of him did not run in the family, and while he didn’t _dislike_ Miwa or Kageyama-san, it wasn’t quite as comfortable with them around.

The food was delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Kentarou was doing the dishes while Kageyama wiped down the table, an easy routine they had established by now.

There was a beat of silence. Kageyama was gathering his words, trying to string his sentences together.

“My grandfather. He would watch me and Miwa when we were younger, and my mom had to work. He taught me volleyball. Ah, he died six months ago.” Kageyama’s voice may have sounded flat to anyone else in that moment, but Kentarou heard the grief that filled those words. He blinked. Kageyama had roughly outlined what had happened in that last game of his and the months before, and now there was an explanation for it all.

_Oh._

Finishing up the dishes, Kentarou walked around the table to where his best friend of three weeks was standing, eyes fixed on the floor and hands shaking. He said nothing, just placed his hand over silky hair, and directed him towards his bedroom.

The hand said _I hear you, I understand, I’m not going anywhere_.

Kentarou had never been a touchy person, and if anyone ever asked him, he would probably say he had an aversion to physical affection, but that night, as he drifted off to sleep, he could not help but feel glad that he was here to offer his hug and tangled limbs to his friend, who was still sad.

\----

Kentarou woke to shaking hands grabbing desperately at his shirt and stagnant waters instead of the usual expressive oceans of Kageyama’s eyes.

His first instinct was to check Kageyama’s temperature, feeling at his forehead, but his friend just shook his head.

 _Not that_ , the gesture said. _I’m not sick like that_.

Kentarou took in the boy lying beside him. Though his hands were shaking violently, the rest of his body seemed to have deflated, devoid of energy. Even his hair seemed to have lost its usual luster in the few hours they had been asleep, dull and plastered to Kageyama’s forehead.

“What’s wrong, Kageyama.” What he had meant to be a question came out as a flat demand, concern seeping into his voice as he held onto one of the hands fisted in his shirt.

Kageyama just held out his pinky, the one with the grey flowers etched onto it, and pointed to his chest. “The wall is heavy, Kentarou. I feel heavy. It’s a bad day.”

It took him a second to process what Kageyama was saying. He had a wall up. His soulmate bond was blocked.

Everyone was born with a soulmark. It usually matched or related to whoever the universe had decided was the perfect match for you, and once people met their soulmates, their marks reacted and the bond started to form. Everyone’s bond was different, but they generally let soulmates feel each other’s emotions. Rejection wasn’t common; some people often chose to remain platonic with their soulmates and be with other people instead, but once a bond was rejected, the mark that you shared would turn grey.

Bond-blocking was even less common. It was said to be incredibly bad for the wall-bearer’s health, and most people couldn’t imagine a world in which they weren’t connected to their soulmate.

This was why Kentarou was still trying to process what his friend had just told him. He tried to review everything he knew about bond blocks, all of their effects- _fatigue, chest pain, extreme feelings of isolation_ …

He clutched Kageyama’s shaking hands. He didn’t want his friend to feel those things. He didn’t want _anyone_ to feel those things.

Kageyama’s voice pulled him out of the sudden snowball of tension that was growing in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Scowling, Kentarou shook his head. “No. No apologies. It’s not your fault.” Kageyama looked like he wanted to protest, but was unable to dredge up the energy. Kyoutani felt the sudden and intense need to punch someone.

“What do you need, Kage?” What could he do to help? There had to be something.

The hands balled in his shirt tightened. “Stay, please-” the way his friend’s voice cracked, and the way he seemed so hesitant to be this vulnerable, but didn’t seem to have a choice, hurt to watch.

“Just don’t leave.”

That was how Kentarou learned his best friend had to bear the weight of something far too heavy on his own.

He didn’t leave Kageyama’s side all day, and he didn’t ask him about why he was carrying this burden. He just held his friend’s hand, and watched stupid action movies, and talked far more than he had in years- about color theory and tattoos and how much he liked to eat.

Kageyama’s mom came home at some point in the late morning, and made food and brought it to her son’s room. Kentarou didn’t comment on the fact that they seemed to have a system for when Kageyama was feeling like this or how she seemed more used to it than she perhaps should have been, with a son of fifteen.

Kentarou just stayed with his friend, who felt too much and bore too much and was probably the only person who had bothered to really see him in years, and he hoped that tomorrow would be better.


	3. "Fuck the Scientific Impossibility Of It" : Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I just want to say thank you to everyone that's commented and left kudos. I honestly didn't know what to expect since this is my first time posting and it's so sweet to read what your thoughts are on what I have written and the way I'm portraying the characters. So, again, thank you.  
> Enjoy!

Tobio was absolutely terrified. 

He had awoken slowly, relieved to feel that the horrible weight that had crushed him yesterday had lightened, reverting back to its usual bearable burden buried in his chest, leaving him only slightly fatigued as opposed to dragging exhaustion. His relief had vanished instantly, however, when he realized that Kyoutani still lay beside him, usual scowl relaxed in sleep.

His friend had seen him yesterday. He had seen  _ all of it.  _ Had seen Kageyama’s complete inability to function like a normal fucking human, crushed by the weight of something he hadn’t told a single soul outside of his family about. 

Worst of all, though, Tobio had more or less told Kyoutani that his soulmate had rejected him. Who would want to be friends with someone whose soulmate didn’t even want them? Rejection was rare, so naturally, his first assumption would be that Kageyama had done something- or was just that awful of a person- to deserve it. 

In all honesty, if Kyou just left and never talked to him again after yesterday, Tobio probably wouldn’t even be able to find it in himself to blame him. What would there be to blame him for, anyways?

_ I mean, fuck.  _ Tobio scowled.  _ The asshole literally had to feed me.  _

As if summoned by the exponentially increasing anxious energy emanating from his friend, Kyoutani’s amber eyes began to open. The moment he noticed this, Tobio shrunk back. Scowling at him, his friend reached out and place his hand on his head, making him blink in surprise. 

“You’re not leaving?” he winced the second the words were out of his mouth. Curse his lack of filter, now of all times. 

Tobio watched Kyou blink, and his eyes fill with confusion. “No, dumbass.” Instead of smiling and patting him on the back like a normal person in the midst of reassuring someone else, the blond-haired boy’s scowl deepened and he smacked him square in the shoulder.

Momentarily forgetting his nervousness, Tobio punched him back, and muttered a sharp “asshole” while yanking the blankets off himself. Surveying the state of his room, he sighed. There were dishes piled next to the bed, blankets tangled and hanging off the bed, and his laptop lay open on the floor. As he began picking up the empty bowls on his bedside table, he debated whether he should act as though nothing happened yesterday, or actually try to dredge up the strength to tell his friend what had happened with his bond. He was slightly more reassured and secure in this friendship now that he knew Kyoutani wasn’t leaving after yesterday, but just the thought of telling him about what had happened that first year at KitaDaii was almost physically painful.

_ Plus,  _ interjected the bitter voice in the back of his mind,  _ who’s to say he won’t leave after hearing your story? _

Tobio closed his eyes and tried to ignore the swirling of grey in his chest, the one that drifted in like fog on an ocean breeze every time he thought about the people- and really, one person in particular- who had left him behind.

“Oi.” Kyoutani’s voice sounded from beside him, and Kageyama’s eyes flew open. He was met with the molten amber color of the older boy’s eyes, and it struck him that he had begun to associate that color with belonging and familiarity,  _ safety,  _ even. Before he could start overthinking again, like he did with everything, he opened his mouth and forced out the four words that caused him pain every time he thought them.

“My soulmate rejected me.”

\----

Kageyama was twelve, and cool browns and light chestnut tones were everything to him. 

He associated cool brown with determination and concentration blazing in his senpai’s eyes, followed by booming serves and smiles of satisfaction. 

Chestnuts and chocolate browns were flirty smiles and irreverent hair tosses, accompanied by smooth words and twinkling laughs. 

Every time he looked at the light brown wood of his dining room table or spent hours consumed in drawings of the chocolates in the window of the shop across from the park, he heard an airy “Tobio-chan!” or an outraged “Mean, Iwa-chan!”

Kageyama was twelve, and volleyball was everything to him, and Oikawa-senpai was the first person he had ever met that might have loved the sport as much as he did. 

He was twelve, and for the first time, he had something akin to friends in Kunimi and Kindaichi, and a good team, and a senpai to look up to, and he threw himself into practice with abandon, relishing the new bruises he came home with every night, the exhaustion that seeped into every bone in his body after a good skirmish. 

Then, at perhaps the happiest he’d ever been in his life, Tobio began to notice the sharp smiles. The biting remarks and dead eyes.

“Oikawa-senpai, can you help me with-”

Brown eyes, open and sincere a second ago, shuttered closed. “Not now, Tobio-chan. I have to practice my serve.”

Kageyama watched as Oikawa turned his back to him, walked over to Kunimi, and began to help him with his receiving form. 

_ Oikawa-senpai must want Kunimi to try to receive his serve,  _ he thought, and turned to go find someone to set to.

“Kageyama-san! Your accuracy has improved! Good work.” The praise from his coach had the yellows and oranges of pride and joy rushing through Tobio’s chest, and he bowed his head in thanks.

The colors dimmed throughout practice, and turned to the muddled green-brown of confusion when Oikawa’s taunts were sharper and more unrelenting than usual, muttered when Iwaizumi-senpai would be unable to hear. Kageyama frowned when a blade of grey lanced through him, making him wince.

Tobio was twelve, and he wasn’t happy anymore. Awe still lingered at the edges of his mind when he saw one of Oikawa’s serves or witnessed the way he drew out the best of his teammates’ abilities, but he had stopped associating anything positive with any shade of brown. 

Instead, he thought of how the person he looked up to most, aside from his grandfather, who was in the hospital more than he was home these days, seemed to find him revolting and could not stand his presence. He did not know why, and he did not know why it hurt so much, either.

It had been a slow process, but Tobio had now fully realized that his senpai would’ve preferred if he didn’t exist. 

He stopped asking Oikawa-senpai for help, and Iwaizumi-senpai, too, for good measure.

_ Maybe,  _ he thought,  _ if I stop being “Annoying, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa-senpai will not hate me so much. _

Tobio was twelve, and he once again found himself truly friendless. Kunimi and Kindiachi didn’t want to associate themselves with someone their captain hated so fiercely. Neither of them said it, but Tobio knew. 

Tobio was floating, fresh off the high of having been subbed in for the game, the high of being useful to his senpai instead of annoying for once. 

_ Because me helping the team as a temporary setter is good, right? Especially if Oikawa-senpai is tired. _

This was why, in a breach of his private pact, he felt that it was ok to ask Oikawa for help. Just this once. 

Starry-eyed, he approached his senior setter, watching as he bent over a cart of volleyballs and served one. The boom echoed through the otherwise empty gym.

“Oikawa-senpai. Could you please teach me your jump serve?” The request is bright and earnest, and Tobio is caught up in the happy feeling of asking for help  _ just this one time,  _ because he’s been struggling and it feels so nice to ask instead of trying to figure it out on his own.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t see the rage in Oikawa’s eyes, doesn’t see the smack coming until the sound of skin hitting skin echos through the gym and Iwaizumi is holding his friend’s wrist, inches away from Tobio’s face. 

Still shocked, his brain has no time to process the fact that his senpai  _ just tried to hit him,  _ because for the first time he’s noticing that Oikawa’s hand has the same soulmark as him, a vine of flowers wrapped around his pinky and trailing down the side of his hand. 

Tobio doesn't hear Iwaizumi quietly berating his friend. He doesn’t hear Oikawa’s dead replies. Instead, he lifts his hand up and holds it next to Oikawa’s, blue eyes wide. 

The gym falls silent.

It’s not the shocked, happy, charged kind of silence. No, it’s the dead, heavy, and mournful kind of silence. Like the universe is grieving for something Tobio is about to experience.

“What the fuck?” the airy and flippant voice Tobio has come to associate with the devastatingly handsome face in front of him is gone. It has been replaced with a voice that is roiling with anger and disgust, heavy in it’s emotion. 

“This has to be a joke.” Oikawa is seething, still trapped in Iwaizumi’s grip.

“Shittykawa-” Iwa’s attempt at intervention is drowned out by Tobio’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s the only thing he can think to say at the moment, because he had promised himself he would stop being a nuisance to Oikawa-senpai, and here he is, fucking that up.

Somehow, the words seem to make his senpai-  _ no,  _ Tobio thinks,  _ his  _ soulmate- even angrier. “Wow. Annoying even in your sincerity, Tobio-chan. Well. This is not happening. I can’t be soulmates with  _ you.  _ You fucking annoying, stupid, naive  _ kohai.” _

“Hey, Tooru, stop. You need to stop.” Iwaizumi is still trying to intervene, and his words are starting to sound a little helpless and desperate. 

Tobio doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks into Oikawa’s eyes and sees rage, and suddenly he can  _ feel  _ it. He can feel the storm of fury building inside his soulmate.

_ Oh,  _ he thinks distantly.  _ The bond snapped into place.  _

Oikawa’s scowl grows deeper, he’s nearly snarling now, and in response to the stunned numbness he feels through the bond, he opens his mouth and says clearly, concisely “I reject this bond, Kageyama Tobio. I will not have you.”

Tobio watches as his soulmate walks away, and does not register the apologetic look Iwaizumi shoots in his direction, too busy trying to shove the yawning pit of grief inside of him deep enough that Oikawa will not feel it. 

The first thing he did when he got home was ask Miwa how to block his soulmate bond. She scanned him head to toe, taking in his tired eyes and blank face, opened one of her high school textbooks, and walked him through the process. Step by agonizing step. She didn’t ask him any questions, and Tobio was endlessly grateful.

The second thing he did was lay in his bed and wonder what it is about him that makes everyone hate him so much. 

Tobio was twelve, and he couldn’t decide which color was worse. Was it the brown of his soulmate's eyes, filled with hatred for him? The sterile white of hospital walls as the doctors tell him his grandfather has less than three years left to live? Or the fading grey of his once-vibrant soulmark that serves as an anchor for the agonizing weight of the wall in his chest?

——

Tobio’s throat ached. 

He hadn’t spoken that much at once...probably ever, now that he thought about it. It didn’t help that any mention of his soulmate instantly drained him emotionally in a way that he was still not prepared for, even two years later. 

Grey swirled in his chest and brown eyes stared at him reproachfully in his memories, making Tobio desperate for any kind of anchor. 

“Oikawa  _ fucking  _ Tooru is your soulmate?” Kyoutani’s incredulous tone rung throughout the room, and Kageyama momentarily forgot his desperation in favor of amusement and exasperation. 

Feeling his lips curl up, he brought a hand to cover his mouth. “I told you all of that. And this is your first question?” The unspoken  _ dumbass _ had Kyoutani scowling at him, and Tobio just removed the hand from his mouth and flipped him off. 

His friend shook his head and ran his hand over his short-cropped hair, scowl slowly smoothing out. 

“He’s the captain of Seijoh’s volleyball team,” Kyou stated flatly. Tobio nodded. 

“I’m going to beat his face in the next time I see him at school.” The tone was just as flat, but this time Kyoutani’s eyes were blazing with anger. Tobio sighed. 

“Don’t bother. It will not change anything.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded tired. He  _ was  _ tired. Tired of carrying around the weight in his chest, tired of having days when he literally could not function. 

Amber eyes softened. Kyoutani sat up from where he was leaning against the hallway wall- right, they were in the  _ fucking hallway,  _ and he had just dumped all his emotional baggage everywhere- and walked over to Tobio, taking the dishes that he had not realized he still held. Kageyama closed his eyes, and seconds later felt a hand come up to pat his head. Waves of calm radiated through him at the touch, and the tension left his shoulders. 

“I’ll help you. Fuck the scientific impossibility of it. I’ll help you carry the weight.” 

The declaration was so ridiculous and  _ earnest  _ that Tobio burst out laughing. 

And deep down, he realized that those words were what he had wanted to hear all along. 

——

“Why are you laughing, dumbass?” Kyoutani’s voice was surly, but not angry. 

“Because,” Kageyama began walking to the kitchen. “Even though it hurts, I’m happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much longer than the last two, so I hope you enjoy it. It wasn't really intended for it to work out that way, but it just kind of flowed best this way, and I really like the way it turned out.  
> I wanted to bring in Tobio's color association more because I feel like even though he's still kind of developing in terms of his emotional intelligence, since he has art as an outlet to express himself in this story, he's kind of learned to understand and visualize what he's feeling. It ties in really nicely with his difficulty communicating verbally, in my opinion.  
> Also- it made me so sad to write the flashback scenes y'all.  
> If you're wondering what Kageyama's art style is, I was thinking a combination of @dkaism's abstract cityscapes, @mitchellmcaleveyart's painting style and @matthewsorgie's sketches of people. (all of these are their Instagram usernames, btw)


	4. "Are You Afraid of Needles?" : Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Sorry this update took a few days longer than usual. I kept trying to sit down to write and was unable to focus on the story.  
> I've also been reading a lot and was hit with a bought of inadequacy, but here's the update anyways!  
> I hope you all like it.  
> On another note- thank you so much for 100+ kudos! honestly, I didn't think anyone would read this (or like it), so it feels amazing to know that 120 of you at the time I'm writing this like it enough to leave kudos. I also love every single comment I get, so please let me know what you think.

Days like this had come to be some of Tobio’s favorites.

Before, he had loved when his grandpa had packed them a picnic and they had taken the train out of the city, spending the day outside tossing a volleyball around.

Now, with Kyoutani, he simply wandered. They would set out after an early breakfast, no particular destination in mind, and just walk. Tobio would sometimes stop to do a quick sketch of a view that caught his eye, and Kyou was fond of feeding the stray cats they came across in the alleyways.

It was nice. Peaceful.

“Dumbass. What was your grandpa like?” Tobio didn’t look up from his sketchbook. Bright yellow surprise stabs at him, but the grief, the absolute suffocation of it, anyway- surprisingly- is absent. He grunts, urging his friend to continue.

Kyoutani isn’t phased by his lack of words, and plows on. “You said he’s the one who taught you volleyball. And you miss him. So what was he like?”

He focuses on the sketch he’s working on for a few seconds longer, trying to collect his thoughts, spin the colors swirling in his mind into actual words. Kyou just continues to feed bits of his meat bun to the black cat crouched at the edge of the street, and Tobio knows his silence means ‘ _no pressure_ ’.

“He was nothing like me,” he begins. “More like Miwa. Ojiisan was funny.” Tobio sucks in a breath, fighting back the grey that threatens to suffocate his thoughts. _Ojiisan deserves to be remembered_ , he thinks desperately.

“The first time we tried to play volleyball, I got hit in the face and he just laughed at me.” Kyoutani snorts from his crouch on the asphalt, and Tobio glances up from his sketch for just long enough to land a well-aimed kick to his shin.

Even though he fights it, Tobio feels his lips curling up. It feels good to remember his grandpa- not in the hospital, sickly and weak, unable to even feed himself, or the doctor’s voice when they told him and his mom and sister how much time the person they loved so much had left, but as a joyful and lively figure.

He’s glad Kyoutani asked.

Tobio watches as his friend feeds the cat, and wonders why Kyou doesn’t have a pet. “Oi.” He flicks the boy in the head as they resume their walk. “Why don’t you have a cat?”

_Why wonder when you can ask?_

After dealing out a punch in retaliation, his friend just shrugs. “Too busy. If I had one I’d want to take care of it and I’m always at school or playing volleyball.” His nose wrinkles and his eyebrows scrunch together further. “Plus, litter boxes are fucking disgusting.”

Tobio snorts, and then looks up at the sky. It’s a nice day, the breeze keeps the strong sun from roasting everything in sight, and there are no clouds. The untouched blue of the atmosphere is the exact shade of calm and contentment, he thinks.

Because he was so wrapped up in the view above them, he failed to notice Kentarou catch sight of the piercing shop, and the mischievous gleam that floods his eyes. Tobio does, however, feel the slap that Kyoutani delivers to the back of his head.

“Are you afraid of needles?” The question takes him by surprise, and instead of retaliating like he had planned, Kageyama just shakes his head and looks towards his friend inquisitively. Amber eyes glow with mirth and a touch of sadistic glee as his friend nods towards the shop.

“I bet you would be too afraid to get a tongue piercing,” Kyoutani elaborates, lips curling up into a smirk.

 _Oh_ , Tobio thinks. _So it’s one of those._

Occasionally, when one of them is feeling particularly vindictive, they’ll make a bet (a dare, really, but he’ll go with bet for the aesthetic), something completely stupid and possibly painful, and see who backs down first.

In this case, Tobio refuses to back down. He wasn’t lying when he said he had no fear of needles, and really what’s a little pain if he can show this asshole who’s boss?

And so he finds himself sitting across from Kyoutani, both of them with their tongues hanging out and bracing for a needle to pierce through their skin.

Just before it goes down, Kageyama has a thought about how angry his mother is going to be, and probably Kyoutani’s, too- but it’s too late. He can’t bow out now, or he’ll lose.

\----

As they exit the shop, tongues throbbing and cleaning solution and instructional pamphlets in hand, Tobio turns to his blond friend.

“I wasn’t too afraid, asshole.” The smirk is evident in his tone, he can’t help gloating a little even though he’s still in complete disbelief that they actually just did that.

As if they are on the same wavelength, Kyoutani turns to him, shock written across his face. “Did we actually just do that?”

Blue eyes meet amber ones, both widened in almost comical denial. “Uh. Yeah.” Tobio responds, smirk gone.

They make it a block, and then burst into hysterical laughter.

\----

Surprisingly, Tobio’s mom didn’t absolutely lose her mind over the fact that her son had gone and gotten a piercing. He’s not sure why, but he thinks it might have something to do with the fact that he did something teenager-ish with a fellow teenager.

Or maybe it’s the fact that a local gallery has DM’d his art account, which now has a good ten thousand followers, and asked about featuring his art.

“Tobio, I think this is fantastic,” his mom titters as she sits typing on her laptop. Tobio doesn’t respond, dead set on keeping this from happening.

Miwa chimes in, seemingly determined to get him to agree to this somehow. “Right mom? Tobi, this would be really great to show people here your art! And I bet you a lot of people will buy pieces. Moneyyy!”

Kyoutani is no help, just shrugging at him and poking him in the ribs when Tobio turns to him exasperated. At this point, he would agree just to get them to shut up. He’s trying to focus on a new volleyball video, and their incessant nagging is giving him a headache.

“I think it would be so good for you. Even though you’ve been posting pictures it’s not the same as putting together an exhibit!” His mom glances up from her work, looking him straight in the eye, gaze imploring. “Just consider it, at least?”

_How the fuck am I supposed to refuse when she says it like that?_

Miwa nods furiously in the corner of his eye. Kyoutani is still silent, but Tobio can practically feel the smirk on his face.

Tobio scowls, a storm of vermillion annoyance rolling through him, and caves. “Fine.”

Kyoutani chuckles behind him, and Kageyama smacks him right on a bruise to shut him up. He thinks the embarrassment and squeals coming from Miwa might be worth it, though, when he sees his mother’s eyes- the shade of brilliant blue they all share- light up with pride and delight. It’s been a while since he’s seen her looking this happy.

She grins at him, and says happily, “I’ll make your favorite pork curry for dinner tomorrow to celebrate.”

Yeah. It was definitely worth it.

\----

It was definitely _not_ worth it.

Tobio stood in front of the gallery, holding a case full of the artwork he had decided on for the exhibit, and practically vibrating with nerves.

He had tried to bully Kyoutani into coming, thinking it was the least he could do after doing exactly nothing to shield him from his mom and sister’s meddling, but his friend supposedly had some errands to run for his mother. That excuse was probably hand-crafted for Kageyama, since Kyou’s mom was also single, and the asshole knew he wasn’t going to protest if he said he was doing something to help her.

At least the annoyance at that thought helped Tobio put aside his nervousness for just long enough to step into the gallery and come face to face with a kind looking man standing behind a counter by the far wall, looking up at him expectantly.

Wringing his paint and ink stained hands, Tobio stepped up to the counter, trying desperately to keep his face impassive.

When he got to the counter, the man offered him an easy smile and greeted him. “Hello. Welcome to Atlas Gallery. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Tobio cleared his throat apprehensively. What if he didn’t know who he was, even though everything had been planned out? What if he took one look at the art Tobio had brought with him and laughed and told him to leave?

“Um. I’m Pinpoint Accuracy?” What he had meant to be a statement came out as more of a question, and Tobio cringed at how odd it felt to call himself that.

“Ah!” The excited exclamation yanked him out of his thoughts, and the man circled the counter. “It’s very nice to meet you! My name is Sato Itsuki. I must say, I was not expecting you to be this young. Such talent!”

Blinking at the onslaught of information, Tobio nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Nice to meet you, as well. My name is Kageyama Tobio.”

Sato-san smiled graciously, and gestured to a doorway along the back wall. “Well, Kageyama-kun, shall we go to the back and look at what you’ve brought?” Nodding again, Tobio tried to make himself breathe. Like with most social interaction, he could not seem to get the poisonous green of nervousness and heavy brown sludge of awkwardness to go away.

 _He invited you here,_ he reminded himself. _He likes your artwork._

His hands did not shake as he opened his case (they never did when he was nervous), but he kind of wished they did. At least that way, the nervous energy would have an outlet.

When everything was laid out for Sato-san to see, Tobio stepped back and took all the pieces in. He’d only actually looked at them all together once before, sensing that if he had taken more time to gather them up, he would have backed out.

The pieces as a whole depicted his middle school days. He had painted or illustrated most of them during the three years, but a few of them were more recent, from days when he had needed to purge the lingering grey fog and freakishly blank white of hospital walls. It helped, he supposed, that a lot of his experiences were negative, and that the color palettes were therefore all similar enough to be cohesive.

Sato-san’s heavy sigh pulls him out of his musings. For a second, Tobio is afraid that the sound means the man hates it and will ask him to leave, and then he turns and takes in his face. He wears a small smile, but his brown eyes are sad, and carry a warm kind of sympathy.

“It is a shame, Kageyama-kun,” the older man’s voice is soft, contemplative, “that such beauty had to be drawn out by what is quite clearly a lot of pain.” Tobio blinks.

 _Is it that obvious?_ Kageyama is momentarily caught in a flash of off-white panic before Sato-san continues. “However, I do quite like the touch of blue that you’ve added to each one. Very subtle. It’s the exact same shade, too.” The sudden topic change surprises him, but he is grateful.

Tobio nods, “Yes. It started a while ago, when I really got into drawing.” He pauses, mulling over what words would be best for what he is trying to say. “It’s...a signature of sorts?”

Sato-san nods, and continues looking over the pieces in front of him for a second longer. Tobio fidgets. “Well, Kageyama-kun. This is an excellent collection you’ve brought me. I’m sure they will sell in no time. You remember that the gallery takes a commission, yes?” He nods, and Sato-san continues. “Fantastic. I assume that you would prefer to remain anonymous?” He nods again. “Ok, I’ll make sure the description cards all have your alias on them then. These will be up soon, in the gallery, if you want to come see your work on display. Usually, I would have you arrange them how you want, but since I’m guessing you’ve never done that before, I’ll do it this first time and if you ever want to bring us another collection I’ll have you do it.”

Tobio tries desperately to process all of this, taking in the information Sato-san is throwing at him while also formulating a response- words are always where his mind falls short.

“Right. Yes. Thank you, Sato-san. I look forward to seeing them displayed.” He knows his tone is flat, and wishes he could convey his true gratitude, but he just can’t. It’s frustrating, but it’s not like this is the first time that’s happened.

He wishes he was better at this.

Sato-san seems oblivious to his inner turmoil, and smiles his warm smile before thanking him in turn and gesturing back towards the gallery proper. The older man walks him out, and for a second, Tobio just stands there, mulling over recent events. Sato-san likes his art. His art is going to be in a gallery.

Tobio is excited to see the pride and excitement in his mother’s blue eyes. The same shade as his. The same shade he works into every single one of his drawings, without fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this update. I thought it would give a lot of insight into Tobio's character and recent development to see him talking about his grandfather and have social interaction with other people for once.  
> It's so clear how uncomfortable and I guess ineloquent he is when talking to everyone other than Kyoutani, Miwa, and his mom. I feel like it really highlights how special his friendship with Kyou is.  
> Also! I wanted to introduce Tobio's mom. I feel like a lot of the time (all of the time) in fics, Tobio's mom is his abuser or the source of his trauma, and for once I want her to be the supportive, loving parent that my mom is to me. Tobio's mother is the only person that can get him to cave when he's being stubborn- as illustrated in the gallery discussion. Plus, I feel like it's a great bonding point for Tobio and Kyou that both of their moms are single mothers.  
> One last thing- I really wanted Tobio and Kyoutani to have matching tongue piercings, but the only way that would ever happen was on a dare, because we all know those two are too stubborn for their own good.


	5. Karasuno Black: Tobio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass.  
> I spent days agonizing over the first few scenes and then all of a sudden I had word vomit at it all came out at once.   
> The joys of writing, everyone.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! It’s like twice as long as the last one, I think. They just keep getting longer and longer as the story picks up more.  
> Thank you for 200 Kudos! It’s crazy to me that anyone likes this enough to click that button, let alone 200 people.  
> Also, thank you for the comments! I love every single one of them, it feels really special that you guys want to share what you think of this story with me.
> 
> THERE IS A PANIC ATTACK DEPICTED IN THIS CHAPTER.  
> This isn’t a TW because I did a bunch of research and apparently I don’t need to actually TW it but I just wanted there to be a warning, just in case.  
> I’ll mark where it stops and where it ends, so if you think it will be problematic for you to read it, please just skip.

Choosing his high school had been a bit of a headache. 

In all honesty, Tobio had no desire to attend Shiritorizawa. He had only applied to take their entrance exams for his mom, who had been pushing for him to go there since early in his third year of middle school. Plus, it wasn’t like he really had a chance of passing their entrance exams anyways- Tobio knew he wasn’t the kind of smart required for that.

Kyoutani was the one that recommended Karasuno, because he had heard that Ukai might be coming out of retirement. Tobio put it at the top of his list. He no longer had any desire to attended a big name school, because he had been there and done that and it had destroyed him.

He ripped the Aoba Johsai acceptance letter to tiny, ittty-bitty pieces and then set it on fire.

(Kyou had been the one to actually set it on fire, but he appreciated the sentiment)

——

Tobio’s favorite thing about Karasuno so far is the uniform. He likes black; it was made by mixing every single color together until they were the same, uniform shade. 

Also, it brought out the blue of his eyes. According to Miwa.

His least favorite thing about Karasuno so far is the fact that his home room teacher yelled at him for the ink stains and paint splatters on his hands. Kageyama takes care of his hands- he has to. He keeps his things neat. 

_ So why is some woman who doesn’t know him yelling at him for being untidy? Over some color on his hands? _

All of those things pale in comparison to the tiny, orange haired, ball of  _ literal sunshine  _ Tobio encounters while scoping out the gym. 

“Eh?” The yell sounds from behind him, and he turns to see who could possibly be so loud.

Tobio is met with a boy that is- short. Really short. The kid’s orange hair (which, he notes, is the color of roaring, irrational determination, an orange that Tobio associates with fire) evokes memories of a game against opponents in spring green uniforms.

“I met you last year,” he blurts without thinking. “But I don’t know your name.” And he doesn’t. Tobio is terrible with names, even if it’s the name of someone who -rather notably- has hair the same color as a raging fire.

“Huh?!” The shout sounds...offended.  _ Oops _ . “My name is Hinata Shouyou. You probably don’t remember the team you beat in the first match!”

That isn’t true. Even if Tobio can’t remember names for the life of him, he remembers very well the yellow flash of surprise as he watched the boy in front of him run and jump at incredible speed- even if it wasn’t put to good use- and the burning orange of determination when he heard him say “We haven’t lost yet!”

So he tells him.

“I remember you very well,” he says, scrutinizing the boy.

“What?” Hinata is practically screaming now, and Tobio feels the sickly green sludge of uncertainty. “You wanna fight?”

His mouth moves before he has the chance to patch together a better sentence, or run the words through a filter. “You sucked!”

Hinata looks outraged, and Tobio can’t really blame him. He’s mad at himself, an ugly red swirling in his gut. Why can’t he just  _ think before he speaks,  _ for once in his life?

“Don’t make fun of me! Sure, we got slaughtered by you guys, but next time, I won’t lose!” Tobio continues to stare at him, trying to figure out what his point is. “Er...That’s what the plan was, so what are you doing here? How can I defeat you if we’re on the same team? Shouldn’t you be at some other school with strong players?”

Teal amusement floats through him.

“I failed the entrance exams to the strongest school in the prefecture,” he admits. What’s the harm? It’s not like he really expected to get in anyways.

“You didn’t make it? Even though you’re the King of the Court?” Tobio flinches at the name, and the awful grey fog and colorless white grief begin to nip at the edges of his chest.

He doesn’t want the black uniforms and general namelessness of this school to be tainted with these colors, doesn’t want a repeat, and most of all, he never wants to hear that name again. 

“Don’t call me that.” Even past the roaring in his ears, Tobio can hear the snarl in his voice, and he tries to reel in the red that he can feel building in response to being called King again. 

Before Hinata can do more than glance at him in surprise, voices begin to drift through the gym doors, growing closer. Three boys enter, and the first thing that Tobio registers is the fact that one of them is bald and trying desperately to look intimidating.

He nods. “Hello.”

The one with dark brown hair (the color of earth, something that Tobio associates with a good foundation and dependability) and a deep voice speaks first.

“You’re Kageyama?”

Tobio nods, taking in the third boy’s silver hair and eyes. The cold color contrasts oddly with his warm smile, and he wonders which of the two actually fits with the boy’s personality. He is well acquainted with cold eyes masked with honeyed words and warm smiles. 

Hinata begins doing an odd dance around the upperclassmen, and practically screams out a “Hello!”

Brown Hair blinks, surprised.”So the other applicant here, Hinata, is you? So both of you are here at Karasuno.”

Hinata tilts his head at the statement, and Silver Hair seems to read the gesture as confusion.

“We saw your match last year,” he provides.

Somehow, that statement turns into Hinata declaring that he  _ will  _ be the ace, and Tobio’s unfiltered words spill out before he can stop them. Again.

“If you want to be the ace, I hope you’ve improved.” 

_ Shit. _

Hinata whips around to glare at him. “What did you say?” Kageyama winces, wondering what comes next. Will the boy decide he doesn’t want to play with him and leave?

“I challenge you!”

For the second time, yellow surprise cuts through him at the boy’s antics. He is unused to someone who is so honest and stubborn- like he is- instead of subversive and uninterested in truly challenging him.

Because of the surprise, Tobio’s mouth is still on autopilot, and he doesn’t get the chance to get it under control before he is spitting out his next sentence. 

“Challenge me to what?” 

_ Oh god,  _ he thinks, too late,  _ Is this a good idea?  _ But the words are already out, and Hinata is already replying.

“Volleyball,” he squawks, “what else?”

The gross green-brown of confusion sloshes through his head, and he lifts a brow. “How do you expect to challenge me one-on-one?”

Hinata blushes the light red-pink of embarrassment, but after a moment of deliberation, yells his retort. 

“Serve!” And then with an overwhelming sort of conviction, “I’ll return them all!”

Yellow surprise again, this time accompanied by the golden orange of disbelief. 

Just because Hinata sounded so absolutely certain, and Tobio wants to see if he really has improved, he takes him up on the challenge. Brown Hair is saying something placating, but he ignores the upperclassmen in favor of the challenge in front of him, beelining towards the cart of volleyballs on one side of the court.

“Here it goes,” he warns, and then he jumps.

Before last month, Tobio had not been able to do a jump serve. No matter how much he tried, without a guiding hand to tell him what he was doing wrong, it was impossible for him. 

Then he had told Kyoutani about Oikawa rejecting him. The asshole had woken him up at the crack of dawn the next day, dragged him to the neighborhood center, and spent all day teaching him how to do a jump serve.

Hinata flubs the receive. “None of the girl volleyball players or old ladies served like that!”

Tobio feels the slightest stab of washed out, blue-grey disappointment that Hinata hadn’t really improved after all.

“One more!” Hinata screeches, tone matching the orange determination of his hair.

He jumps again.

This time, Hinata moves almost impossibly quickly to receive the ball, but instead of a clean dig, it ricochets off his arms and into his face before flying across the gym to hit- oh god, was that the vice principal?- in the face. 

A wig that Tobio had not yet noticed goes flying and lands neatly on Brown Hair’s head.

The yellow surprise is back, mixed with a shocked sort of teal amusement.

“He was wearing a wig?” Tobio isn’t sure why this is his first reaction, seeing as though he should probably be groveling and apologizing by now, but Hinata is already replying. 

“You just noticed?” He whispers loudly. “Everyone at the entrance ceremony could tell.” 

Before Tobio can remember whether he actually paid enough attention to the man to tell, Bald Head yells at them to shut up.

The vice principal is talking to Brown Hair now. “Sawamura-kun”-oh, so that’s his name- “I’d like a word with you.”

——

While Sawamura-san is gone, the reality of the situation hits Tobio.

He just caused the vice principal to be hit in the face. With a volleyball. What does that mean for his club activities? For his ability to play volleyball on his high school team?

Before he can spiral further, Sawamura returns, hands on his hips. “Fortunately, he’s not punishing us, and no apologies necessary.” Tobio feels turquoise relief sweep through him. “I do have something else to add, though. I don’t know what your motive was for attending Karasuno, but I’m sure you came here with victory in mind.”

“Yes!” Hinata screeches.

“Of course,” Tobio agrees, because  _ shouldn’t that be obvious? _

Sawmura is suddenly walking closer to them, and he continues his lecture “I’m not telling you guys to become buddies. Even if you were enemies on opposite sides of the net in junior high, I need you to understand that you’re now on the same side.” He turns looking each of them in the eye, and Tobio feels the navy of intimidation seep through his skin.

“No matter how outstanding you are, no matter how willing you are to give it your all, if you don’t get along and hinder your teammates…” Sawamura-san pauses, and his gaze feels heavy with responsibility as it rests on Tobio.

“You’re not wanted!” The words hit him right in the chest, where Tobio carries the weight of rejection, and grey begins to swirl, muffling the rest of Sawamura’s words. “Until you realize that you’re teammates, you won’t be participating in this club!”

And then the door slams shut in Tobio’s face.

**DEPICTION OF PANIC ATTACK STARTS HERE**

It’s hard to breathe, and all Tobio can hear is the echoing ‘you’re not wanted,’ because it’s true, isn’t it? His soulmate didn’t want him and his teammates didn’t want him-  _ don’t  _ want him now, either. 

His chest is beginning to hurt, and his head is spinning, and Tobio can’t  _ breathe,  _ and oh god _ , why is everything spinning? _

Everything is wrong.

He is still gasping, trying desperately to get away from the panic and take a real breath because he needs  _ air  _ and he can feel his hands shaking so hard it hurts.

Tobio doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s gotten a proper breath of air, but it seems like forever. It feels like there are walls closing in on him, and suddenly his mouth is dry, aching for water.

Someone is talking to him.

“-ey. Hey. I need you to breathe with me, ok?” 

His hand is placed on a warm surface that rises up and down steadily.

“You feel that? That’s me breathing. Try and match my breaths, k?”

Tobio’s hand is still shaking, but now that it’s flat against something, the tremors don’t hurt anymore. The surface is still rising up and down at an even pace, and he can feel his breathing beginning to slow down to match it.

He can breathe now. There is oxygen in his lungs, and the weight in his chest is no longer suffocating.

Tobio realizes that his eyes are pinched shut, and attempts to open them, slowly. He is met with hair the color of fire and warm brown eyes that have a concerned gleam to them.

**DEPICTION OF PANIC ATTACK ENDS HERE**

“Hey,” Hinata greets, and he is grateful that his voice is hushed in contrast to his earlier screeching. Tobio is not sure he can handle screeching right now.

His mind is slowly catching up to where he is, and what just happened, and his hand is still on Hinata’s chest, and he’s not sure he can move it right now because it might be the only thing keeping him from either collapsing or absolutely losing his mind.

They are kneeled over on the pavement leading up to the gym, and it’s dark out now, and when Tobio glances up at Hinata the boy gives him a blinding smile.

“It’s ok. You can leave your hand there. I know what it’s like. I’m gonna move a bit so I can dig around in my bag for some food for you, ok?” His voice is still subdued, and Tobio musters up the energy to tilt his head forward ever so slightly, a nod.

It is a monumental effort. 

Hinata just smiles again and twists his torso to the right so that he can shuffle through the bag sitting next to him. He is unsure how long it takes, because he feels heavy and half asleep, but eventually Hinata pulls his hand out and turns back towards him.

“Hey. I know you’re super tired right now and really want to go to sleep, but I need you to eat this, ok? And then I’ll walk you home.” A wrapper crinkles, and Tobio looks down to see Hinata unwrapping a chocolate bar. He eyes it dubiously, unsure if he can pull himself together enough to grab the bar, bring it to his mouth, take a bite, chew, and swallow.

It sounds like a lot, and he is barely holding his eyes open.

As if sensing Tobio’s utter lack of energy and dubiousness, Hinata says “I can just, like, feed it to you? Are you ok with that?”

If it were under any other circumstances, he would probably roll his eyes and yank the candy bar out of the other boy’s grasp, scoffing, but he is so,  _ so,  _ tired. So Tobio tilts his head forward again, in a barely-nod, and opens his mouth.

Hinata places the bar in his mouth, and he takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. 

He doesn’t taste anything, but dutifully repeats the steps until the chocolate is gone.

“Great.” Hinata shoves the wrapper in his pocket, and then shifts to look back at him. Tobio’s hand still rests on his chest, and the occasional tremor wracks through it.

Reaching behind his back, Hinata grabs a water bottle, too and offers it to him. Tobio tilts his head again, and Hinata pours a sip into his mouth. It feels good against his sandpaper tongue.

“Ok. So hopefully that gives you just enough energy to make it home. I’m going to walk you, ok? I know you’re really, really tired right now and it’s gonna be hard but if you get home you can sleep in your bed.” Hinata’s voice is still soft and soothing, and he finds that the chocolate did give him enough energy to finally reply to Hinata with a real nod. 

The boy smiles at him again, and begins to shift so he can stand up. “Can I touch you?” He asks seriously, and Tobio nods again.

Gently, Hinata grabs the hand that still rests on his chest and stands up. He looks down at him.

“Can you stand up?”

He gathers his energy and shifts his legs, which have been folded under him and are beginning to go numb. Grasping Hinata’s hand tightly, Tobio pulls himself up to standing and braces himself there for a second before turning in the direction of the gate. If he stops, the dreary beige of exhaustion will catch up to him, and he will fall asleep right here.

Hinata stays mostly quiet on their walk, and Tobio is too tired to really wonder how he knew what to do- or why he did it. He just makes a note to think about it later, after he’s slept for a week or so. 

When they arrive at his house, Hinata just holds his hand out for the key and unlocks the door for him. Tobio’s hands are still shaking too hard for him to do any type of dexterous movement, and he is again thankful for the smaller boy’s insight. 

Hinata helps him to his bed, lays the blankets over him, and wishes him a good night. 

Tobio is unconscious before he sees orange hair exit his room.

—-

Tobio wakes to the trilling of his alarm and a feeling he thinks is probably comparable to being hit with a truck. 

His body aches. Everywhere. It’s hard to move without experiencing twinges of pain, and the weight of the wall in his chest is more crushing than ever. He groans as he sits up, checking the time on his phone- he has an hour before he needs to be at school.

He practically crawls out of bed and out of the gym uniform he was wearing when he had his...actually, he doesn’t know what it was. Tobio feels his brow furrow as he shuffles into the kitchen. Hinata seemed well acquainted with whatever happened. Did that mean he had experienced something similar?

He is yanked out of his musings when he catches sight of a piece of paper taped to the fridge. 

It’s a note. From Hinata.

_ Hey, Kageyama!  _

_ I thought I would leave this note in case you were curious. It didn’t seem like that had happened to you before, and it’s happened to me many times, so if you have any questions, just let me know!  _

_ I looked in your fridge before I left and it looks like someone made you a lunch for today, and there’s lots of food for an easy breakfast, so that’s good. It’s really important that you eat lots today, ok? I know you’ll be really tired, so don’t try and make anything elaborate, but good food is important to help you recover.  _

_ Also, I’ll try and talk to Sawamura-san and the rest of the upperclassmen about how we should prove to them that we can get along. Don’t worry, I won’t mention what happened. You don’t even have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to! _

_ Anyways, remember to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner, especially if you’re coming to school.  _

_ Here’s my number. Text me if you want! _

_ (XXX)XXX-XXXX _

Tobio blinks. The note was surprisingly thorough and respectful of his boundaries, especially coming from someone who had acted like an overzealous eight year old for the majority of the time Tobio had known him. 

Before he could think too much about why Hinata was being so nice to him- was it pity? A cruel prank?- he creates a new contact and adds the boy’s number to his phone. 

Moving as quickly as possible with soreness-induced pain shooting through him, Tobio made breakfast and got ready for school. He’s tired, but honestly, it’s not the most tired he’s ever been and forced himself to still operate. The wall in his chest seriously took a toll on him some days, and while the pain in his limbs was new, he just grits his teeth and deals with it.

——

The day is mostly a shitty one. 

He is sore and tired and his hands still have a slight tremor to them, which makes it hard for him to draw on his notes instead of listening to his teachers.

Tobio’s thoughts keep flashing the baby blue of curiosity and gross green brown of uncertainty as they wander to what happened last night. It had been absolutely horrible, and it left him exhausted, and Hinata had said in his note that it had happened to him  _ many times.  _ He felt his scowl deepen and nose wrinkle at the thought of going through that frequently.

Tobio really needed to talk to Hinata.

Lucky for him, Hinata comes barging into his classroom during lunch. At the sight of Tobio devouring the bento his mom made him for lunch the next day every night before heading to work, the boy’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he smiled easily before bouncing over to the desk he was seated at.

“Kageyama, hey!” Hinata’s brown eyes glimmered with excitement, and a warm sort of openness as he sat in the chair directly in front of Tobio’s desk. 

“I talked to the Captain and we get to play in a three on three match next Monday, to prove that we can work as a team! And I talked to Tanaka-senpai and Suga-san and they said they would help us practice.” Hinata was practically bouncing at his point, and Tobio felt the boy’s almost fluorescent orange-yellow excitement spill over onto himself.

“That’s good. That they’re helping us practice, I mean.” He cringes at the awkwardness of his disjointed sentences, but Hinata seems to either miss it completely or not care, because he nods enthusiastically, hair bouncing.

“Um.” Tobio wants to ask about last night, but the clashing colors inside him- the sickly green sludge of uncertainty, pastel pink flashes of hope, lingering touches of orange-yellow excitement, and swirls of nasty grey left over from the words that sent him into a tailspin the night before- make it hard to methodically string his words together like he wants to.

So it ends up a little jumbled and halting, but it comes out all the same.

“So. Last night. Uh...it’s happened to you?” A pause, while he gathers more clumsily paired words. “It’s never happened to me. Or, not that bad? Is there a name for it?”

When he’s been silent for a minute and it’s clear that he’s done talking and not gathering more words, Hinata begins answering his questions.

“Yes, it’s happened to me a bunch of times. It’s called a panic attack, and everyone is different but they can be triggered by a whole bunch of things. I’m sure you know by now that it can leave you super tired a sore, and it’s really important to eat afterwards.” His voice has lost its excitement, but it’s still just as warm and sunny. 

Tobio wonders what Hinata’s are triggered by, but instead of asking, he just nods. He wonders how he’s supposed to tell Kyoutani about this without his friend completely freaking out.

“Um...do you want to talk about what caused it?” Hinata’s question is spoken softly and tentatively, and a second later he adds “Just...do we need to talk to Sawamura-san about what he said?”

Before Hinata is done speaking, Tobio is shaking his head adamantly. He doesn’t want to bother the captain with something that wasn’t his fault in the first place. He knows where the older boy is coming from, and it’s not like he knew that Tobio is so fucking delicate and broken that three words could cause... _ that  _ to happen.

Besides. It’s handled. Dealt with. If it happens again or becomes a real problem, Tobio will come up with a solution, but for now, it’s better not to bother his upperclassmen. 

Thankfully, Hinata doesn’t push the issue further. Instead, he just begins explaining the plan for practice the next week with Tanaka-senpai and Suga-san (whom Tobio learns are Bald Head and Silver Hair, respectively). He tenses a bit when he hears that Suga-san is the team’s official setter, thinking momentarily of a pair of cold brown eyes instead of warm silver ones. Hinata doesn’t mention it, though Tobio is sure he catches the action- the boy is oddly perceptive and hides it behind a youthful demeanor. 

It’s nice to talk to someone like this, light and carefree over a shared interest. The last time he remembers it happening was with Kunimi and Kindaichi briefly in his first year of middle school before everything turned grey and poisonous and brown eyes turned cold. Hinata is easy to interact with, too, he doesn’t seem to care that Tobio’s words often come out stilted or wrong, though he does get playfully offended at some of the more blunt critiques of his volleyball skills.

It makes Tobio feel warm, despite the dragging exhaustion that lingers after his panic attack yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I’m already working on the next one, where I’ll be introducing a new POV.   
> I feel like Hinata is often depicted as emotionally stunted or ignorant, but I feel like he has more dimension than that, and him and Tobio bonding over the experience they share in this chapter is going to be really important for Tobio’s development.  
> It was odd to write a chapter without Kentarou and Tobio together, but I wanted Tobio to be able to make other friends and Karasuno is going to be really important in his emotional journey. I think of Ken as more of a brother to Tobio, and Hinata and the rest are his friends.  
> Please comment and let me know what you thought!


End file.
